


A Survivor and His Bloodthirsty Son

by CakeCleaner



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (I’ll add more tags if I can think of any), Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adoption, Alternate Universe, Angst, BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD, Blood, Blood and Violence, Bloodthirsty Technoblade, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Coming of Age, Dadza, Family Dynamics, Fear of Death, Fluff, Friendship, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Near Death Experiences, Piglin Technoblade, Protective Phil, Protective Technoblade, Temporary Character Death, Worried Phil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CakeCleaner/pseuds/CakeCleaner
Summary: Small hoof fingers began softly playing with the dark purple feathers. Both hands, one player and one piglin, which held the sword loosened to nothing more than just a forgotten memory as one become more mesmerized at the glimmering, violet, shine that preened under all of the careful strokes and the other become more intrigued at the abnormal behaviors of what he once deem as a mindless mob he did not hesitate in killing.“You’re a strange one aren’t you, mate?”The piglin gave him a huff that sounded way too deep to be a child’s and an indifferent expression, his previously petting hands retreated back to his side and he stared the elder down with no hints of aggression or fear, as if he was the one dawning Netherite gear and not the other way around.———Or: Phil adopts a little piglin and said piglin grows up into what legends would whisper with fear as the Blood God
Relationships: (but mostly Phil and Techno), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Comments: 271
Kudos: 2864





	1. Blood eyes

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT NOTES:  
> -Players can respawn  
> -Fights to the death is a regular occurrence  
> -Anthropomorphic Players do exist  
> -Mobs can’t respawn

_A god stares boredly across the landscape covered in red, loving how the blood would dry into a crusty brown chip over time. Hunger games has just occurred and it was a total bloodbath. The god loved it._

_Yet there was a frown on its face._

_The hole where once the excitement for bloodshed was held is now gone, leaving behind an empty wasteland of promised emotion that would never be fulfilled. What’s the point of bloodshed if there were no consequences? Sure there was the unbearable pain, but all of that goes away once they respawn._

_It’s eyes began to wander_

* * *

The calm ocean breeze blew over Phil as the man casted his fishing hook out into the depths below. The bob plops into the waters with a bare ripple eroding from disruption, catching the attention of the Fishes down below without scaring them off to hide in between the rocks. 

It’s not usually his favorite pastime, but a much needed one. The man could only stand the unbearable heat and the echoing screams of ghasts for so long before he started pulling hairs. The combination of chilly wind blowing against his wings, the singing birds, and the boring, repetitive, motions of fishing relaxed him. Between all of his projects, there’s barely any time to just relax in the sunlight. He could only smile and thank his past self for begrudgingly scheduling the off time on his calendar.

With nothing particularly to think about, the world record holder eyes began to wander.

He wasn’t in complete isolation but his base is a long ways away from civilization. He just didn’t particularly want to be around unpredictable people when he first began his five year long journey of not perishing. It worked out for the most part, he never once had to deal with any mischievous people that were trying to end his journey early. But Phil chalked that up to that fact that he was mostly unheard of until it was too late and an unlikely pair of baby zombie and spider sunk their fangs into his neck. 

He was distraught for a short while, the run was over, no more new entries in his journal. He remembered feeling a sense of peace wash over him as strange as that was; he didn’t have to be overly cautious of every little thing anymore. Then shock and joy overwhelmed him when his face was printed on newspapers all throughout the land as the new world record holder. After his time in the spotlight and the whole world knew him for his achievement, all he was left with is loneliness. Phil has all the power to move closer to where his friends live, to once again laugh with them into the skies no thought in mind every morning, but the man didn’t have it in his heart to leave his secluded home. There are way too many memories here to be neglected and left for the moss to grow on.

Something heavy pulled at the line. Snapping out of his thoughts, Phil reeled it in. The purple shimmers emitted from the covers glowed in the sunlight as the drenched book flew up in the air towards the man, losing only a few pages in the process. He caught the book in his hand, quickly sat down on the shore, and began flipping through the soaked pages, searching for a clue on what magical enchantment was bestowed within.

Blue eyes sparkled with glee as he released a whoop of happiness into the air; it was a mending book.

At the moment, he has not found a villager that is nearly as intelligent enough to comprehend the words in a mending book let alone mass produce it. The blond man giddily placed down the book and looked at his tools with a quirked eyebrow, deciding which one of his assets are of top priority. 

Something stroked his wings.

All sense of calmness the fishing session gave Phil was immediately thrown out of the window as he released a curse and jumped back away from the shore, into the shallow waters. His Nethrite boots violently splashing the waters in many directions. His deadly, glowing, sword went up to block whatever was there. The fire aspect already beginning to heat up the weapon, squirming with anticipation at the prospect of battle, and the sharpness V slicing the air between them, leaving nothing but the promise of death. 

Why didn’t he hear footsteps? Why didn’t he hear any sort of noise at all? Even the most quiet and sneaky creatures gave him some sort of indication that they were nearby.

Tense, rushing, ocean blue pupils met confused, deep, rose red ones.

The piglin, from the looks of it roughly around eight years old, or as Phil liked to describe it, old enough to be hostile, tilted his head at the tense man. His outreached hand was frozen in the air where Phil’s dark purple wings once were and his other hand loosely clenched a shiny, golden, sword that looked way too big for his body yet, somehow, looked natural; like the little piglin could use it just as well as any professional. Phil was momentarily blinded from the reflected sunlight bouncing off the half broken yellow helmet he armored that definitely have seen better days, but that was nothing compared to the surprisingly large amount of intelligence he saw behind those eyes. Piercing red; like the first droplet of blood or the fires on top of the deepest layer of the Nether. Both of which is something the five year hardcore player did not want to interact with.

Phil frowned at the little piglin, previously relaxed fingers grasp at the handle of his sword as he blocked his stomacal area. He knows how they work. He shouldn’t be surprised to see that the creature has a brain. Piglins are smarter than the average mob, they gather valuables, protect their fellow species, and travel in dangerously large groups. They are their own worst enemy. Blinded by greed, one pair of gold boots on your body and they would immediately become too distracted by it to impale you. No gold on your body and they will attack in hoards, uncoordinated, ruthless, hoards. The baby ones, around three to five years old, are usually fairly passive; nevermind the occasional bites they attempt to commit with their underdeveloped tusks. Six to ten is when they begin to become aggressive as well as become a nightmare with their constant violent hyperactivity and the blood eyed piglin in front of him should be no different.

The child didn’t do anything. He just stared back at Phil’s unwavering eyes before he averted his gaze onto something behind the Blond with a look that many would describe as fascination. 

His wings.

Phil could feel himself lowering his defenses even though the man knew better. Sometimes the little ones take some time to plan out their attacks before they start sprinting at someone in an irregular pattern. He continued to use his sword to block off his body.

A confused expression took over his face when the little piglin, instead rushing forward to recklessly stab him, trotted around him. His little hooves hit the waters and the Blond immediately knew how he was jumpscared; there was no sound. The little piglin somehow learned how to travel through water as if he himself was a part of it and not a disruption to the natural flow and Phil wouldn’t doubt for a second that he knew how to do the same on land.

Small, four, hoof-like, fingers began softly playing with the dark purple feathers. Both hands, one player and one piglin, which held the sword loosened to nothing more than just a forgotten memory as one become more mesmerized at the glimmering, violet, shine that preened under all of the careful strokes and the other become more intrigued at the abnormal behaviors of what he once deem as a mindless mob he did not hesitate in killing.

Phil lowered his sword and switched it out for a shield instead before he lowered himself down into a crouching position, getting eye to eye with the child. His dark green robe dipped into the cold waters and his shield halfheartedly blocking his body.

“You’re a strange one aren’t you, mate?” 

The piglin gave him a huff that sounded way too deep to be a child’s and an indifferent expression, his previously petting hands retreated back to his side and he stared the elder down with no hints of aggression or fear, as if he was the one dawning Netherite gear and not the other way around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1449 words)
> 
> Idk what this fanfic is gonna turn into to be honest, I was just getting increasingly more and more disappointed in the lack of Phil and Techno fanfics. The concept is soooo good! A dad and his murderous god-like pig son it’s great!
> 
> Criticism is welcomed! Please, I always want to know what I can do better at! :D


	2. Tagging Along

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTES:  
> -Players can respawn  
> -Fights to the death is a regular occurrence  
> -Anthropomorphic Players do exist  
> -Mobs can’t respawn

_Their all seeing eye absentmindedly watched over all of the Players walking out of the Hunger games stadium. Each and everyone of them, limping from the excruciating phantom pains of when they were killed. Some leaning against friends for support while they jump on one foot, some clutching their neck while curses escape their mouth from the memory of a sword that previously sliced right through it, and some stayed behind in the medical rooms, healing a pounding headache from when an ax was lodged into their skulls._

_Only one player had walked out with pride and a trophy in her arms._

_The entity had watched her play. She was an average among disappointments._

* * *

When gathering up the loot he fished up from the shore he contemplated taking the little guy with him; it’s not everyday you meet a friendly piglin. But there were way too many bad memories to do that. Nightmares of the days of hiding underneath a layer of netherrack with nothing but the reminiscences of a golden helmet on his head, the handle of what was once a ferocious weapon, and the blood that flowed out of his chest plagued him. That day he was ill prepared, got too impulsive looking for a fortress, and forgot his tools were breathing their last breath. In his hole underground, he remembers hearing the hoards of furious piglins as they scampered about above his area, searching for the man that shot a fellow piglin while aiming for a ghast. He remembers the unbearable heat he endured those days, he wasn’t near any lava, but the constant warmth from being in that hell realm in general made Phil believe he was being cooked alive. Most of all though, he remembers the fear.

He headed off in the direction of his base after waving a goodbye to the strange mob before him, having expected that to be the last of their encounters. He had expected the little mob to head off to wherever he felt like, perhaps in the direction of a portal so he would go back to his natural habitat.

Fish taste so much better when they are freshly killed so in his hands, he carried two buckets crammed full of fish he planned on either cooking for dinner or feeding to his cats, Pog and Champ. Usually he preferred the faster method of flying home but that transportation option is out of the question since he’s bringing home live animals. Unless he wants to drop a good percentage of his catch from fifty feet in the skies, he will just have to endure the walk.

The winged man is actually not opposed to walking home; the sunset is still a few hours away, the weather is nice, and it’s relaxing. It was sort of nostalgic really, trekking through the woods that is. It reminded him of simpler times when his back lacked his signature wings and all he could do for sustenance was to go hunting in the woods for any wild animal that was unfortunate enough to appear within his eyesight or hearing range. Phil bathed in the memories of the past for the remainder of the walk until he came across a wall of trees.

The oak trees along this path haven’t been touched ever since his crop farm started prosperting, giving them time to form a dense wall of leaves and branches that Phil couldn’t just shrug aside without being stabbed in the eye by a stick. The weak vines from the past that used to cling snuggly into the barks are now healthy and thick as well as entangled in a mess within the wall, acting like a structure to the green barrier in front of him. The man set the buckets down on the floor before he reached for the leather handle poking out of the sheath.

Something pink and gold appeared at his side. 

The record holder barely contained himself from jumping backwards with a cuss like he had done before.

The little piglin stared at him with half lidded eyes and a small smile underneath his snoot, as if he was amused at Phil’s reactions. Playfully amused or sadisticly amused, Phil has no idea. His right hand was lazily dragging behind his golden weapon which dug a line into the soil where they walked, giving the world a clear indication of their pathway in a form of a continuous, wobbly, stripe.

Phil clutched a hand over his pounding chest. He was not a fan of how sneaky this child was. It is impressive, yes and would definitely help the kid out in the long run, but at the moment he was not a fan. “Jesus mate, where did you come from?” 

Phil didn’t expect an answer, the child was a piglin. Not only is he from a completely different dimension, but he was probably raised in the language that his species speaks in, not in English. He still waits for an answer though, perhaps it was hope that, somehow, this strangely neutral piglin would understand him…

Or perhaps it was because he was awfully lonely. 

As expected, the piglin tinted his little head at him in confusion.

Phil gave the other a small smile that probably looked sad from the outside perspective. He didn’t mean to make it look that way, and judging from the observant stare the piglin gave him, he most likely caught on. 

The child in front of him looked back and forth, slowly bouncing his attention between the blond and the wall of overgrown plant life. Small hands lifted up the golden sword with ease and wiped the tip of the weapon with his own little hands in two quick swipes, not thinking once that his own tool might slice the hand that held it or caring about the fact that the dirt is now on him instead. A huff escaped the child and he stared right into the depths of the man’s soul, promoting the winged man to blink at the sudden attention.

For a moment there Phil believed that the kid would finally strike.

And he did.

The lush wall fell down in scraps in a matter of fifteen seconds. In one slash down the little guy managed to get rid of a good chunk of the barrier with his half broken sword. Chucks upon chunks of tightly woven vines flopped down onto the dirt, pulled by gravity and by the push of the forceful sword. More and more foliage followed suit, provoking nothing more than a frustrated grunt out of the child when his sword became momentarily lodged in a tree. 

When the wall had fallen into nothing but fresh fertilizer for the grasses below, the little piglin gave out a snort of satisfaction and trotted back to the astonished elder’s side. 

Phil’s mind was now in overdrive; it’s one thing when a naturally hostile mob is neutral, in fact he never thought he’ll ever witness a piglin who’s eyes don’t narrow at a goldless form, it’s another thing when said piglin is smart enough to recognize an obstacle in the man’s way and help out. Are all piglins like that? Are all of the piglins he trapped in an never ending cycle of constant trading possessing the same amount of intelligence as this one? He doubts that’s the case, if he dared take off his golden helmet around them, there would be arrows pointed at his neck.

The child looked up at him expectantly, as if he was waiting for him.

The Blond stood there for a moment, mind still racing, before he forced himself out of his state of shock and kneeled down in front of the child with a wonderfilled grin and a newfound interest in the strange creature. “Whoa. How did you know I needed to get past that?”

Half lidded red eyes seemed to sparkle at the positive feedback.

“Thanks for the help buddy.” Phil happily reached over to pat the golden helmet on top of the little piglin’s head.

A mixture between a growl and a whimper erupted from the child as soon as the hand hovered over him and Phil immediately brought it back to his side. The little piglin took a cautious step back away from the man, glaring blood eyes never leaving shocked ocean ones. Small hands clutched a little more tightly around the handle of his golden sword which was coated light green from the helpful act the piglin committed mere seconds ago. As the aggressive noises continued, his tusk poked out more and more, revealing themselves to be a lot longer and sharper than what Phil originally had thought.

The winged man slowly stood up and backed away from the kid, hands halfway up as a show that he meant no harm. “Okay, okay, I’m backing off, chill.”

That seemed to be the right move. The growling slowly eased down the further Phil stepped back. Distrustful eyes softened into distant ones as he continued to stare down the confused man in front of him. The little piglin let go of his defensive stance and straighten up as well as loosening the vice grip he had on his sword. A quiet huff and he silently walked up to the two buckets full of fish that Phil layed on the woodland floor. He watched them for a few moments, studying them while they swim around in discomforting circles due to the crowded space in the bucket. 

Phil watched his movements like a hawk, slowly recovering from the whiplash that was the equivalent to a slap on the face that the kid just gave him. 

The little piglin stuck the sword in his mouth as a means to free both his hands and immediately the elder rushed forward to pull the blade out from the hold of those tusks. “What are you doing, get that out of your mouth!” He scowled as he swiped the golden weapon out of the child’s vulnerable mouth. “You could’ve cut yourself, just because it’s made out of gold doesn’t mean that it’s still not a sword!” 

The child flinched back a little from Phil’s increase in volume and a growl threatened to once again erupt. It probably wasn’t helping that the kid had no idea what he was scolding him about so to him, the man was just yelling at him. Frightened eyes watched the sword and the hand that loosely held it as if he was waiting for him to slash down on his form.

Phil never planned on hurting the child. Now that the kid is looking at him like that, he is mad at himself for even scaring the creature in the first place. 

The child nervously lifted up one of the buckets of fish and presented it to Phil with wobbly arms. 

The blond blinked at the gesture. “Oh, you just wanted to hand me the fishes?”

Blood eyes watched his reaction with nervousness and guilt drove a knife into his heart. He squeezed the golden sword in his sheath next to his netherite one and kneed down in front of the kid so they could be eye to eye and so that he wouldn’t be towering over him. The kid seemed to be scared of hovering hands so it’s probably likely that towering adults would not be favorable either.

“Why didn’t you just put your little sword on the ground then? He giggled a little bit, amused at the random thought that the kid rathered to risk a sharp cut on his snout than to let the weapon out of his sight for one second. 

His tensed up face relaxed at the elder’s giggling and the wobbly arms strengthened up a little bit.

Phil gave the other a soft smile before giving him a thank you and taking the heavy bucket out of the other’s hands. He slowly stood back up and grabbed the other bucket on the woodland floor before heading off once again in the direction of his house, stepping on the branches and vines that the piglin had chopped up.

He looked back after a moment and grinned, the kid was following him. It was a short lived smile however when he noticed fidgeting pink hands and the unsettled red eyes that seemed to constantly survey their surroundings. The piglin seemed to shrink within himself at every chirp of a bird and at every crush of twigs that Phil stepped on.

The record holder raised an eyebrow at the sight. It was only a little while ago when the child stared at his raised netherite sword with complete calmness as he drenched his pants in the shores. 

Unless…

Phil set down one of his buckets and pulled out the child’s half broken golden sword out of his crowded sheath. 

The little piglin immediately seemed to perk up at the slight of his beloved weapon. He hurried forward to Phil’s side and made grabby hands at the blade.

He laughed at the adorable actions of the kid “Okay, okay, here you go.” 

The weapon was handed back to the little piglin and the kid hugged the blade soon after it was once again in his possession. Phil doesn’t even know how one could hug a sword without cutting themselves, but the kid seemed to have found a way. A tiny squeal of happiness escaped the child.

“You can have it back, but don’t pull that sword-in-mouth stunt again kid.”

The next few words of warning caught in his throat when the strange creature stopped hugging his sword. Blood red eyes looked up at him with such gratitude and trust that Phil wanted to slap his past self for ever making him scared. He was brought out of his inner thoughts when the kid bounced a few steps away and worry began to inch into his mind; worry for if he had, once again, done something wrong.

All of that worry was replaced with alarm when the little piglin began recklessly swinging the blade at invisible enemies. Alarm was replaced by astonishment when the kid somehow began performing dangerous and flashy strikes in quick swings that made Phil’s eyes spin. Seemed like the kid was getting comfortable with his blade after their temporary detattachment; or perhaps the kid was just showing off. Four little, hoof, fingers played the sword like a fiddle that Phil has only ever seen trained fighters do and it all came to a show stopping close as the piglin swung the blade into the air and caught it without so much as a second glance. The child grinned his tusky grin before he lowered his blade down and stared at the mesmerized man in front of him.

“Whoa..” Wild thoughts run rampant in his mind, yet the words could not form a sentence at the show the little piglin has presented him. 

Who is this kid? Peaceful despite the species and blessed with skills that only professionals have obtained.

The kid’s patient expression stared up at him, all the unease that previously plagued him had disappeared into nothingness as his little fingers wrapped loosely around the golden blade. Seemed like the kid was waiting for something though, Phil didn’t figure out what until the child pointed at the bucket on the ground.

“Oh yeah, heh, better get home before the sunset.” He grabbed the bucket before standing there for a few moments, studying the unnatural child in front of him. He slowly turned around and took a hesitant step in the direction of his base, looking over his shoulder at the child, hoping that the kid would continue to follow him. Horrific memories of the past associating the species flashed past him as he looked down at the child, but he didn’t care.

“Come on mate, want to meet Pog and Champ?”

Responsibility struck him the minute he found out that the child had followed him. Protectiveness had Phil’s heart in a tight grip the second the child hugged the half broken sword. And attachment permanently caged his soul the moment the child looked up at him with blood irises full of trust and happiness like he was the only light in the cave.

His wish was granted as the deadly, but friendly, little, piglin followed soon after, right at his heel with his head held high and with a new found trust in the man he was behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (2741 words)
> 
> Okay, first of all, wtf is with the support y’all are killing me! 💕THANK YOU SO MUCH!💕 I’m guessing y’all are just as hungry for Techno and Philza content like I am lmao
> 
> Anyways this was a pretty long chapter, hope y’all enjoy :)! If I don’t lose interest in the fanfic then the each future chapter lengths should progressively become longer and longer, which kinda annoys me due to how inconsistent it is, but eh, its for the details man.


	3. Unforeseeable Label

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTES:  
> -Players can respawn  
> -Fights to the death is a regular occurrence  
> -Anthropomorphic Players do exist  
> -Mobs can’t respawn

_The entity stopped examining the winner, now she is just exchanging good natured compliments with some of the fellow contestants._

_Instead, the entity just watched over the area._

_The sky has turned into an illuminating, fiery, orange by the time the whole stadium becomes empty, even the players with headaches have limped home by this time. The sunset barely peeked into the giant stadium, lighting up only half of the indoor area with a glow, tinting the red stained plants bright orange. The light bounces off the formerly light blue pool of crimson water and outlines the copious amount of chests that were grouped in the middle. Many of which were completely filled to the brim with blood._

* * *

Pog and Champ were waiting at the door when Phil got home. Upon seeing their owner, they began to purr with their tails held high. The man could see just how large their pupils grew when they saw what he was carrying in his hands and they licked their lips in anticipation. Their happy emotions were put on halt as soon as they saw the extra individual that tagged along behind him. Their furry little heads tilted at the little piglin in wary curiosity and their previously dilated pupils shrank, Phil doesn’t blame them; besides him, almost no one has ever stepped foot in his home and usually when another creature is following him, they are trying to hurt him. Plus his cats have never seen a creature from the Nether before, most things in that hell realm are extremely hostile and Phil would rather stab himself than let one of those aggressive monsters anywhere near his furry companions.

The child behind him scanned the outside of his home with indifference, taking in his surroundings with a calculating eye. Phil tried not to think about the mess of random chest and shulkers he had laying around as the child did so. 

“I’m back guys.” Phil smiled down at his cats when they reached his door before he leaned down and scratched behind furry, midnight, ears as the cat playfully swiped at the purple feathers on his back and while a peach colored furball rubbed himself along his ankles. “Okay, okay, I love you too, now let me in my own house. Can’t feed the both of you if I can’t even get to my kitchen.”

As he began unlocking his door, he caught the sight of the little piglin kneeling down closer to his cats at the corner of his eye. His cats were unnerved, their ears fell flat against their skulls and their tails swished around, hitting his leg in anxiousness. Blood red pupils observed their movements all the same and the winged man wondered what thoughts were brewing inside that golden helmet, he’s most likely taking mental notes on the cats' behaviors. Small hands reached out in the same fashion as the elder had, but was reciprocated in a completely different manner from the household pet in the form of raised backs and angry hisses. The little piglin watched the show of fangs and fur with an undeterred expression full of boredom. 

Fingers laced with cat hairs unlocked the door before opening the iron entry, allowing the smell of home to wash over him like a breeze. The muffled sounds of underground, mechanical, cogs, turning somes of his many redstone machines on was a constant beat every time Phil came home. He could very easily mute the soft clanks his machines make, but they at least fill up his dreadfully, quiet, home with something. 

The blond picked up the fish bucket for the last time that day and entered into his home, using his elbow to switch on the incandescent lights that were embedded into the floors and kicking off his dirty, purple, boots in favor of his usual, wooden, sandals. The lights shined brightly as they highlighted his feet in yellow while he strived into his kitchen. He plopped down the bucket on his counter with not much care besides the instinctive, mental, note to not spill water all over the place. His mind was elsewhere at the moment.

Phil finally looked behind him in search of a particular, strange, individual. The winged man raised an eyebrow at the hesitant figure at his door whose pupils were dialated with fascination at the furniture and artifacts which were in the building, but legs were bouncing with reluctance. The kid has probably never been in nor seen the inside of a house before.

“Come on in mate,” The child’s floppy ears perked up at the sound of his voice, to which Phil found adorable, snapping the little piglin out of his wonderfilled trance. “Go enjoy the warmth, I’ll get you something to eat.” The blond man chuckled, beckoning the child inside.

Phil could hear tiny hooves come in contact with his floors, first hesitant before becoming more confident and more curious. He watched the kid as he examined and probed his hard, black, finger at every chair and objects he had laying around. At some things the blood eyes were indifferent to, such as the little cactus he had in a pot, his red irises barely glancing over it. At others they were curious, such as the first treasure map he had ever found that was displayed proudly on the walls; the kid stood on his tippy toes examining the framed, papyrus, paper. The book the elder had laying on his couch seemed to catch the child’s interest though; sneaky hooves walked over to the colorful images that were printed upon the pages. The record holder vaguely recalls the contexts of the book that of which was about ancient civilizations. Phil grinned when the child jumped upon his couch for a closer examination and a squeal of surprise turned delight escaped the child’s tusk at the bounce. He continued to jump up and down on the large furniture, both wearing out the springs inside and covering the surface with dirt, but Phil couldn’t find it in himself to care, not when it brings such happiness to the child. 

The whole scene gave off such a delightfully homey aura that it would instantly make anyone with a heart smile, it was something Phil didn’t realize that he craved.

Too bad the kid won’t be staying.

The man knows how cruel the world is, if the kid stays, he wouldn’t last a day in civilization. Everyday there is at least one witness of a deadly fight erupting somewhere and they are not just simple, street, brawls, they are fights to the death; the last one standing wins. These events don't usually happen in the public because it is seen as disruptive and disturbing to start killing someone in the middle of the road. Despite this fact, people oftentimes start cheering one side on if the fight sustained on long enough. Other than that, nobody cares anymore, unless the dead individual was robbed of valuable possessions, the authorities don’t even bat an eye if someone dies, they just break up the fight if they even get there in time. Nobody cares because the defeated would respawn. Nobody cares about the phantom pains the guy would have to endure because it will all go away. 

Phil couldn’t just keep the kid in his house like a pet either, it would be a waste to confine a child this intelligent to a single place, but if his younger days have taught him anything, it’s that kids are brutal. People’s younger years are usually when they get all of that bloodlust out of their systems and there is no way the piglin would survive if he were to ever become the target in the eyes of his peers, no matter how good with a blade he is. 

The Nether is a piglin’s natural habitat, not the overworld.

Not to mention the fact that Phil doesn’t think that he could take care of the little guy even though to the desire to is growing stronger and stronger.

Opening his cabinets, ocean blue eyes scanned the contents inside until a familiar, golden, shine catches his eye. Phil grabbed the yellow vegetables out of the cabinets before washing the thin, metal, coatings in the sink, grimacing at the thought of biting through the gold. The man had eaten golden carrots before, they are sweeter than their orange counterpart, but Phil would rather keep his teeth intact than to gain the ability to last an extra hour without eating. At least with the golden apple, a person’s chipped tooth becomes immediately mended with the fruit’s healing properties. The little piglin doesn’t have to worry about a broken tooth though, his teeth were made for eating such valuable vegetables, they would chomp them down as if they were nothing. 

Phil walked in front of the child with a few golden carrots. The kid didn’t even glance up at the goodies he had in his hands which prompted the man to raise an eyebrow. It was rare whenever he showed up in the nether with golden carrots in his pockets, but whenever he did, all the piglins around would smell it and stare in his direction with a hungry eye. The kid is doing none of those things, he is currently just staring at a page in the ancient civilizations book with an unreadable expression. His usually expressive irises were lifeless and honed in on the words and his little body looked as if frozen in time. The only thing that suggested that the little guy was not a statue was the increasingly more and more tense, death grip the kid had on the handle of his sword. The elder observed the pink knuckles turning white for a second with a wary blink.

Phil allowed himself an inquisitive glance over the page that the blood eyes seemed so infatuated with. 

“Do you understand what that says?”

That seemed to snap the child out his trance. Crimson eyes went frantic, dull pupils, while still lifeless, constricted massively, and the golden blade in the kids hand went in an offensive position in an instant. Phil took note of the lack of noise coming out of the child as he took a step back. No growling, no snarling, nothing; almost like he was on autopilot.

Before the tip of the blade could slash across his unprotected stomach, the golden sword halted at lightning speed and the little piglin blinked at the figure in front of him. Consciousness reentered the child’s dull eyes before he began to frantically scan his surroundings once again, just like how he had when Phil took away his weapon; nervous and wary of the environment around him. A huff of satisfaction and relaxed shoulder concluded to the winged man that there was no sign of danger around according to the child. Blood eyes blinked in surprise at the outstretched, aggressive, blade, and the hand that held it. Phil watched as the deadly hand twitched for a moment before it got withdrawn back to the child’s side, the golden sword dropped on the couch in the space next to him. The little piglin gave him a nervous expression and a soft whine escaped those tusks.

It didn’t take long for Phil to understand that the kid was apologizing.

“It’s fine kid.” Phil responded, already taking mental notes of the fact that the child has an unpredictable, hostile, autopilot installed within him. Another reason added to the list of why the kid can’t stay; Phil could learn to handle it, but if the kid did that to anyone else, they wouldn’t hesitate to draw their weapon and strike back. “Why did you do that though?”

The child calmed down a little at the tone of his voice, he was probably expecting him to be a lot more angry at his actions. Awkward silence fell between them as the child began anxiously playing with his fingers underneath the questioning attention of sapphire eyes. With his head held low and with fidgeting fingers, the kid somehow gave off the perfect image of a troublesome delinquent getting caught in the act of something devious. Perhaps the little piglin is displaying the act on purpose, Phil doubts that’s the case, but he wouldn’t cross that idea off immediately considering how intelligent the creature has shown he was. After a few moments of uninterrupted silence, Phil released sigh into the air. Of course the kid won’t respond, he keeps forgetting that the piglin doesn’t understand a single word that’s coming out of the player’s mouth. 

“Alright, let's forget it.” Phil could feel himself soften up at the sight of nervous crimson eyes watching his every move. The man sat down, exasperated, next to the child; the couch squeaks underneath the additional weight. As he got comfortable, he placed the shiny carrots on to the others lap and softly smiled at the quiet, but happy squeal that came out of the kid before his tough choppers munched up the expensive vegetables, all anxiety has left the child now he knows for sure that the elder wasn’t mad. Phil chuckled at the adorable puffed up cheeks full of golden carrots and the kid preened at the joyful sound. It’s surprising how one moment with this kid could turn from hostile and tense to lighthearted and earnest.

“What was so interesting about that god that you didn’t even see me?” The winged man grabbed the book and placed it in between them before opening to the page that caused the abnormal trance.

“It’s not any different than any other god. Well, I mean...” Phil drifted off as he tries to remember what he had read about the powerful entity. “It has done some really fuc- uhmm crappy things, but let's be honest here kid, all the gods in this book are awful.”

Floppy ears listened in with mild interest, probably amused at what this winged man was spewing on about. 

The elder didn’t know why, but the desire to read the book to the child hits him. Phil knew his efforts would most likely be reduced to waste considering the piglin doesn’t understand anything he’s trying to communicate besides body language and voice tones, but Phil still wanted to try. It would be a nice memory for both the kid and the blond man before he has to send him back to where he came from. Maybe the kid would understand a word or two during his efforts. That was his excuse to do so. Subconsciously, Phil was just trying to selfishly prolong their time together before the little piglin goes off into the distance of ruby mist and hellish fire and a small part of him knows that. He chooses to ignore the pain in his chest.

“Do you wanna read this? You seemed really interested in it.” The piglin gave him no real answer to his question, the only noise he provided was the sound of crunching carrots and a look of contentment at the comfortability of sitting on a couch.

He placed his index finger on the first word of the page and curious, bored, red, eyes lazily followed the digit.

“The… Blood… God.” Phil took a pause between every word to make sure that the little piglin understood what he was doing. 

The child tilted his head at him, confused and still munching down on golden carrots, but nonetheless, okay with what’s happening even though all he is hearing at the moment is nonsensical words and phrases that means nothing to him.

“3100 BC…to present.” His finger dragged along the old page, dragging the child’s attention along with it.

“Originating... from... Egypt, it was… rumored… that the god… was borned… in the… middle… of a… genocide.”

Maybe it’s Phil’s eyes playing tricks on him, but something flickered across the little piglin’s face before it went back to its original expression of ease. The winged man tried not to think too much about it, instead focusing on the next few words.

“The man… who… first... summoned... the god… goes by… umm, what the heck?” Phil narrowed his eyes at the strange name of the man who had summoned the entity to fuel their greedy lust for power in exchange for mass genocide. “Tex- Teck… Teqk… what the fu- heck, how do you even pronounce that?”

The last bite of golden vegetables was swallowed down and the child swung his legs back and forth, already adverting his attention to his two skeptical cats over by the windows that had been watching over them with an immovable, cautious, eye, ever since the child stepped hoof in their territory. The kid’s thoughts must be elsewhere, most likely thoughts of how boring this was; Phil smiled to himself at the idea of the little piglin’s twitching ears as he falls asleep to the soothing noise of Phil’s voice.

He looked back upon the strange arrangement of letters that is the dead, power hungry, serial killer’s name. “Techno? Uhh... yeah, yeah, Techno, let’s go with that.” 

The little piglin looked over at him, legs stilled and blood eyes focused at the talking man with the attentiveness of an observant hawk. The blond’s mind went blank with surprise at the out of nowhere, crimson, spotlight that was shined at him before a wildfire of questions concerning the sudden surge of attention came rushing in and the book, laying between them, was lost in the smoke of wild thoughts inside of Phil’s mind. 

“What?” 

The child continued to stare at the winged man.

“Techno? Is that it?” Phil raised an eyebrow at the kid, it must mean something if the kid is paying that much attention to it. That hypothesis was confirmed with a responsive oink, a tilt of the head along with an expression of someone waiting for something. 

“Wait..” Phil could feel a laugh bubbling up from within “Don’t tell me that’s what you’re called.” The piglin oinked happily at the giggles that were sneaking out the elder man as he clasp his hand over his grinning mouth. Small tears began forming the longer he tried to hold himself back.

“Mate what the fuck!” Phil barely weazed out before the dam breaks and laughter boomed throughout the house. “That’s so awful, you’re named after a serial killer!” The little piglin had jumped back in surprise for a moment when Phil’s roaring laugh first erupted which only made blond double over, leaning heavily against the couch as he laughed into the ceiling at the absurdity of it all. His wings and shoulders shook and the old book between them slid off the couch with a thump. The record holder doesn’t know why he was finding this so hilarious; the word ‘Techno’ probably just meant something random in the piglin language and the kid only paid attention to that word because he finally understood something that was coming out of his mouth.

The child next to him watched the messy show of wheezes in bewilderment, confusion written all over his face, and looking as though theorizing what factors had made the elder go off like this. Confusion soon turned into annoyance the longer the laughter continued, as if it clicked in the child’s mind that Phil was, although unintentionally, making fun of him. An irritated grunt later and the child slammed down his tiny pink hand hard over the now giggling mouth, trying to shut the man up. Phil’s eyes widened at the act, speechless for a second which the kid seemed to be smugly glad for, but that only lasted for a second before a second round of laughter pierced the air. 

As the sound of annoyed growling rumbled along in the background, a name stained in blood was unspokenly placed upon the small, pink, head of a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (3305 words)
> 
> I think I have shot myself in the foot, this fanfic has became WAYYY bigger than I ever have expected it to become and I still have little to no idea on where this story is going ;-;
> 
> But I will continue to provide y’all with chapters unless one day I lose interest! But that won’t be for a long time because my current obsession rn is Technoblade’s content and I swear to god THAT MANS DOESN'T UPLOAD IM STARVED
> 
> Your comments and kudos really do help me get these chapters out faster <3


	4. Fiery Dystopian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTES:  
> -Players can respawn  
> -Fights to the death is a regular occurrence  
> -Anthropomorphic Players do exist  
> -Mobs can’t respawn
> 
> [Fanart💕](https://twitter.com/on_bucky/status/1325916577494163458?s=20)  
> EVERYBODY SHUT UP, WE GOT FANART!! GO CLICK ON IT AND GIVE THEM THE ATTENTION THEY ABSOLUTELY DESERVE!!

_‘0,0’ is what the Players called the place. Every contestant is pushed towards the center after a certain period of time and that where the real fun begins._

_Long ago, It preferred to call that certain period of time ‘Happy Hour’_

_Only the entity used that title however, no one else would understand the sheer amount of entertainment he gained from watching a decapitated head fly._

_Now it felt nothing._

* * *

It hadn’t crossed Phil’s mind of just how attached he was until Techno stood awkwardly in front of him covered from head to toe in the golden armor that Phil forced upon the child. Each piece, the new helmet, the chestplate, the pants, and the boots, were emitting violet from the various enchantments embedded within the protective gears. The elder had searched all throughout his storages for the child sized, golden, armor, which was not an easy fret. Who in their right mind would store children’s armor when they are a fully grown adult with no kids. Thankfully, Phil found a full set that was buried behind various diamond gears, the dust dulling the purple glow of what was once a tough equipment worn by a ferocious baby zombie. The enchantments themselves are not bad either; protection ranging from I to II on all pieces and unbreaking III on the boots.

The kid had been mildly surprised at the sudden gifts the winged man had bestowed upon him. Now he is just standing stiffly in place, unused to the extra weight that the protection brings.

If the child was going to go off into that dangerous dimension, he might as well go in with a full set of golden armor. Phil tried to rationalize his attachment as reasonability even though deep down the man knew he would’ve thrown the entire diamond set on the child if it wouldn’t make him a target for any wandering players.

“Okay Techno, it’s time.” Sadness settled in his stomach at the words. “Let’s go little guy.”

The kid glanced up at Phil’s beckoning hands before he shook himself loose a little, trying to get more comfortable in his new gear, his ears flopping back and forth in the helmet as he did, before following behind the shimmering, purple, wings with a deadly, blue, weapon trailing along besides him.

Phil replaced Techno’s half broken, golden, blade with a shiny, new diamond one. It was a lot shorter than a normal sized sword, but was just as lethal as any other. It shines with sharpness II and unbreaking III as Phil’s lights reflected off the violet sheen. A weapon is less noticeable than armor so hopefully the blue blade would be more helpful to the child than a hindrance. Hopefully it would be easier now to defend against any cruel players or hoglins that could possibly try to intrude into Techno’s life and cut his lifespan before he is due.

A soft smile embedded into his face at the recent memory of presenting the new sword to the child. Phil had been nervous at the time due to the fact that worries were clouding every inch of his mind about the damages the child could possibly accidentally inflicted upon himself. Techno, on the other hand, was curious and intrigued about the new weapon present to him. Before Phil had the chance to change his mind, the little piglin snatched the handle right out of his nervous hands and began inspecting it. Techno scanned the light blue, keen, edges and the smooth, diamond, middle with judging, narrowed, eyes. He bounced the blade slightly with his hand loosely holding the handle, testing the weight of the blade, seeing if it was to his likings. The sharpness enchantment flaring to life as the bouncing continued. Even though Phil had seen all of the evidence concerning if Techno could handle the new sword, he still grimmanced at how nonchalantly he child seemed to be handling the weapon, no worries of bloody accidents were presented in the little piglin’s face, only his calculating expression. The record holder’s hands twiched with desperation to stop the skinny pink arms from causally twirling the blade, it was quite a sight in all fairness, if only his mind wasn’t preoccupied with the numerous times the weapon came dangerously close to slicing into tiny, relaxed, arms.

When Techno finally allowed the weapon to rest at his side, he looked up at Phil with a happy squeal. That sound is now permanently stamped into the depths of his heart.

Tiny, golden, boots followed next to enchanted wings as they headed in the direction of the intimidating portal. Their footsteps synchronized with the only differences being that leaves and twigs crunch underneath netherite boots while nothing came out of golden ones. Pink, cotton candy clouds covered the orange skies as they trekked down the record holder’s pathway.

“Think they will make you the prince once they see how stacked you are?” Phil smiled down at the child, adoring the made up image of a group of piglins carrying the child upon their shoulders like a king. “That would be so funny if they do that.”

A quiet grunt could be heard besides him.

“Hey, don’t rule it out mate, I wouldn’t doubt it!” Phil replied back, “Those creatures are so blinded by gold, you can literally make them do anything for it... No offense, Techno.”

No response to his words this time, only the sounds of dirt and pebbles being shoved aside as they walked.

“Heh, you must think I’m a ramblin’ old fool.”

He didn’t mind the lack of response even if the kid could understand him. This was a lot better than just talking to himself for hours on end, an unbreakable habit that the winged man had developed two months into the five year run that cemented his name into the history books. Loneliness had plagued him for such a long time that he doesn’t think he can even imagine someone else bantering with him by his side anymore. The space next to him, once was filled with laughing friends, was empty for so long that it feels kind of strange that there’s someone occupying it now. Not nearly as strange as that someone being a friendly piglin but strange nonetheless. Phil welcomed the obscurity though, how can he not when it shoots such a feeling of warmth and happiness into his soul. He allowed himself to enjoy the presence of Techno for the short amount of time they had together.

If it counts for anything, his depressed chuckle had received a look from the boy who has probably recognized the lack of joy within the noise.

Sapphire eyes focused on the increasingly tense shoulders that the kid held the closer they got to the portal. He raised an eyebrow at the tiny, clenched, hand holding the blade while the otherworldly roars of the beyond escapes through the obsidian frame. Previously relaxed eyes have now become stricken with anxiety the longer the blood irises stared into the swirling amethyst particles that dissipates into the orange skies. Techno steps faltered while Phil continued on.

The man turned back around after a while of walking by his lonesome, tilting his head curiously at Techno, allowing himself to scan their surrounding environment for any lurking dangers as well as scan the child for any injuries that might have contributed to the hesitant steps. Blood eyes, constricted massively to hide the cloud of fear and anxiety, was narrowed at Phil. He took note that the diamond sword, previously being uncaringly twirled and played with, was now raised and defensively armed. Golden boots dug themselves into the path in a typical fighting stance

For a moment there he thought that he was the problem. One cautious step to the side confirmed the opposite.

Quiet whimpers of fear escaped out from between those tusks. Any average person would not have heard it, it was hidden amongst the growls. The portal seemed to roar back at the child now that the elder’s shimmering wings weren’t blocking the view, spewing out a particularly large amount of particles into the air while the screams of the distorted fades out in the background. More heart wrenching whimpers pierced the air at the sound.

Phil was quick to block the view of the hell portal from the child, making use of his wings and expanding them to cover the sight. Large, enchanted, feathers spreaded outwardly with conviction, sheltering frightened, crimson, eyes from the nauseating swirls and screams. They span out with twitching edges that curved inwards as if they were trying to protect the child from any dangers beyond those violet sheens; Phil had to stop them from taking over and fully encasing the little piglin from the outside world. “Hey, hey, hey, Techno what’s wrong?” He kneed down so he could be eye to eye with the kid as talked, his hands reached out halfway to the child before he stopped, his brain reminding him that he has no idea where he stands in the child’s mind. Last time he reached out to him, Techno went into a panicked fighting instinct; he’s already nervous, Phil couldn’t risk accidentally intensifying it, no matter how much he wanted to comfort those apprehensive hands of his. For now, his own hands just awkwardly made comforting gestures to the child while he informed those floppy ears of his that everything is okay in his most calming voice.

The image of lightly encasing those sword wielding, hoof, fingers within his own scarred, warm, hands until all of the anxiety and fear slowly sweeps out of them is just something the blond man will just have to keep behind locked doors in his head.

The piglin relaxed upon the intrusion and the whimpers slowly died out along with the growls. His attention was flickered upon Phil’s nervous hands and watched while they decide whether or not it was okay to hold dangerous, pink, ones or not.

“I know it looks scary..” Blood eyes followed the scarred hands with an unreadable expression as they finally decided and retreated back to the man’s side. “But it’s okay mate, we just need to go through it once.”

Phil jerked a thumb behind him in the direction of the portal before presenting the now relaxed child in front of with only his index finger up. Hopefully Techno understood the meaning behind his gestures which was that he only needed to go through it once. A confused tilt of the head after a long, pregnant, second later had demolished the elder’s hope. The winged man dropped his head in defeat, as if his neck suddenly couldn’t handle the weight of his skull, and released a sigh into the gravel beneath them.

“Alright, just.. uhh-” Phil narrowed his eyes at the dirt on his purple boots, trying to scramble for ideas on another way to show that the portal was harmless. “Ah!” He lifted his head back up again to meet an adorably confused face, he had an idea. “Watch me Techno, I’ll go through it first, okay?”

Phil mentally slapped himself for once again indulging in what seemed to be a new habit of expecting the piglin to understand him. Good thing, Techno’s attention had been on him this entire time and will hopefully continue to stay that way while he goes through the portal.

He got up and unsheathed his wings, making sure that he does so slowly as to not to psychologically slap the child with the object that seemed to be causing so much anxiety. It worked to an extent; blood eyes, once again, narrowed at the frames and a growl slipped through, but it lacked the devastating whimpers that accompanied them last time. The elder took the rest of the steps backwards to the portal with the occasional glance behind him in order to not trip on a sneaky root or something of that caliber and with a want to show the nervous child in front of him that there was nothing to be scared of. Purple particles hit his wings like specks of hot water before immediately cooling and dissipating to the wind, it’s a warning of the hellish temperature from beyond. He plastered a smile on his face to the questioning oink from the other as the otherworldly sounds tried to deafen him. The distorted noises seemed to find great enjoyment in his discomfort, echoing the intrusive sound throughout his head louder than usual all while Phil had to show a child that the portal, despite the intimidating look and noise, is completely harmless, nevermind the land it brings you to.

Purple of many variants filled his vision, the harmless swirls that once just floated into nothingness have now blinded his vision, the nauseating effects the portal always put on anyone who dares go through have kicked in now and the pink and gold figure in front of him just looked like it was part of the sunset before him, swirling the gold into the skies and the pink into the clouds. Phil kept a smile on despite all of this, his discomfort might worry the kid and Techno does not need that.

An alarmed oink was the last thing he heard before the swirls took him away.

As always, a blast of heat in his face was the welcoming gift as he set his foot down in the Nether. Phil dropped the forced smile for a grimace at the unappreciated blast.

The distant sounds of ghasts looms in the background of crackling flames. Phil released a few coughs into the smokey air, getting used to the change in air quality; even though the man had built an entire base protecting his portal, sometimes ashes still managed to fall through the cracks and enter his lungs, leaving a horrendous taste in his mouth. He chose to ignore his stinging taste buds for now in favor of grabbing the golden helmet he had lying around for instances like this. His prime and protective netherite helmet was now replaced with a golden one and he hated it. The lack of durable gear on his body in a place like this is always something to sweat about and on most days the record holder would completely ignore the yellow gear and proceed to kill any daring piglins that would get in his way.

On most days that is.

The easily breakable armor slipped over his head. It was uncomfortable and Phil felt no different now than when his skull was completely uncovered.

The winged man was just about to head back to the over world and retrieve the little piglin when the portal roared back at him for his step and spat out a small, pink, and golden figure. Techno had almost face planted right onto the floors if not for the diamond sword that he propped himself up with. The blade stabbed right into the stone flooring with an awful sound, no doubt dulling the keen edges slightly as it cracked through the bricks. Before Phil could rush over to help or say anything, frantic blood eyes whipped up and quickly surveyed their surroundings with fear in those constricted pupils. Techno’s breath was short and fast and he jumped back up on his hooves in a trembling, defensive, stance, leaving the diamond blade embedded into Phil’s floors, most likely due to the fact it would take him a long time to pull it out and he had no idea of what his current environment holds. Suddenly, those panicked eyes landed on him and a loud squeal echoed throughout the base.

It was one full of relief and happiness.

Phil barely blinked before a blur of pink and gold charged at him and suddenly there was a force gripping tightly around his haori and pulling down.

Tiny hands grabbed at his haori and held on as if he was dangling off of a ledge over the dark abyss of the void. Phil released a small yelp of surprise at the action before blood soaked irises consumed him into its deadly, crimson, pool of endlessness. Techno was squealing up at him with alleviation in every single one. The trembling hands that still held onto his clothes like a lifeline, had steadied now as the fear and panic flowed out of them, his previously constricted pupils had expanded massively, and his expression screamed of a frightened soul that just found the exit out of a maze.

Phil had a front row seat to all of it and guilt is stabbing the man in the chest.

“Oh Techno…” He didn’t realize how quiet and soft his voice had gone. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have left you back there like that.”

Phil wishes with the entirety of his heart he could hug the child.

Techno buried his face into the cloth as a small, relieved, whimper leaked out. It was barely heard, but it was there; hiding in between a black haori and sharp tusks.

Phil wishes with the entirety of the rest of his life he could hug the child.

“Techno, I am so sorry..”

After both parties left the comforts of the base, they traversed carefully through the rough terrain of crumbling maroon islands and unstable gravel with a pair of quick, blue, eyes on high alert for any floating monstrosities and with a constant pink hand that latched onto his haori through their travels. All of Phil’s senses were heightened, a lot more than the average player; one can’t exactly survive as long as he did without them and they were all scanning their environment as they walked. Whenever a shimmer of that ghostly, pale, skin catches Phil’s eye, he shoots a killing blow off into the red mist and continues on their journey, choosing to ignore the haunting cries and the valuable tears that occasionally dropped with them. He couldn’t afford for a ghast to shoot their fiery bullets at them, not with Techno holding on by his side.

The kid himself looked to be completely fine after the whole fiasco with the portal. In fact he looked completely bored with the hellish environment around him which is something Phil would’ve laughed at if he were not currently busy with his task at hand, he could only wonder why the portal itself was such an issue. The little piglin’s half lidded eyes wandered around, squinting at the glowstones up above, before staring idly at the diamond blade in his other hand. Phil had given the child a sheath for his new dangerous tool, but the kid had not put away his new toy for even a second, he’s always twirling it around or just mindlessly playing with it; it looks as if it was therapeutic for the kid. His other hand still had a clutch of black cloth within those hoof fingers though, it was both helpful and unhelpful. Oh one hand, he knows where the child was at all times while he’s scouting for hostile creatures, but on the other it kept distracting him; how can he focus when all he can think about is the amount of trust Techno had placed upon him. It makes his heart soar and it’s very distracting.

As the duo cleared over a hill, they were finally greeted by the sight of a large gathering of piglins. They momentarily stopped whatever they were doing in favor of scanning the blond man, hands already pulling back crossbow strings, before their soulless eyes landed upon his shiny, golden, helmet and decided to go back to their tasks with nothing more than a warning growl thrown in his direction. Phil couldn’t help but notice how none of the piglins were concerned on the topic of why one of their own, a child for that matter, was standing so close to him.

“Go on mate, go back to your new family.”

Even he thought his voice was reluctant when they finally muttered those words. Full of cheaply concealed sadness and selfishness that betrayed what his stapled on smile really thought.

Blood eyes looked over the hoard of his own species with disinterest that was borderlining spiteful. The pink hand upon his haori tightened just a smudge.

“No, no, Techno..” Purple wings lightly pushed against the hand, prompting the other to let go of the cloth and stare up at up at blond locks and sad eyes in confusion.

“See,” Phil made a gesture to the hoard. “They are your family, they will protect you from enemies and they will treat you like a king.”

A small voice in his head screamed at him. It was a desperate and selfish voice that Phil had pushed to the very back of his mind behind closed doors and thrown away keys.

You were already doing that.

You could take care of him.

Aren’t you sick of being lonely?

How is this any different than taking a wild sheep from its herd?

Just take him.

The voice somehow escaped and it is plaguing him.

A loud, painfilled squeal perpetrated air and it echoed within a mile radius of the source and Phil immediately stepped in front of the child and whipped out his flaming Netherite blade along with his shield as arrows pointed at his neck. He had no idea where the sound came from, but the piglins, of course, is going to assume the player was the one to cause it. The little piglin seemed to snap to attention at the sound as he flashed around his surroundings for danger for a brief moment before blood, red, eyes, narrowed at the hoard. They were looking over at Phil with a thirst for blood and the winged man was fully ready to defend. Usually he would kill them all and call it a day, but he refused to; not in front of Techno. Even though it looks like the child couldn’t care less about the creatures. In fact, the child was growling at the crowd with his blue sword in hand and was currently trying to push himself in front of the elder; Phil didn’t allow that to happen though, the man took a few steps forward again so that he was, once again, in front of Techno, using both his shield and his body as a wall between the child and the numerous amounts of murderous weapons and beady eyes. It would be so simple to just kill them all, but Phil would rather not slaughter a whole group of Techno’s own species in front of him. That would not be a nice image for the child to witness.

Surprisingly, the arrows lowered and the bloodthirsty eyes of all went away. The attention was off of his pale neck and was moved to the injured piglin in a ditch. The creature, eight feet below, whimmered whilst cradling his ankle from the fall. The elder watched in anticipation for a fellow piglin to help out their fallen comrade but none had stepped forward. The mindless hoard just took one glance at the poor creature and went on about their day, ignoring the piglin’s whimpers and leaving him to fight for his own.

The crowd of beady eyes went back to conversing among themselves and shining their tools as if one of their group members never fell.

Pity took a hold of Phil for a minute, which turned out to be enough time for him to traverse over to where the injured Nether creature was and for his godly pickaxe to dig out a quick staircase for the fallen beast. Techno tried to copy what he was doing by jamming his sword into the red rocks and breaking off the pieces.

He looked over at the crowd of piglins multiple times to see if doing so was alright with them; They just threw him a handful of suspicious glances and continued on with their day.

Then it finally dawned on him when the simple staircase was constructed.

They do not care.

They only stuck and fought together because it’s beneficial to them as an individual. They aren’t smart enough to form emotional attachment to anybody in their crew. Why risk one’s life fighting as one when they could fight as many? Find enough members to join and the hoard would become impossible to stop. Who cares if a single member dies when there’s so much more? It’s not like they were the ones in the ditch, it’s not a problem for them, only for the poor soul that fell in it. It only became so more obvious when the injured piglin stared at him in pained confusion when they revealed the safe staircase up for him to limp up with.

Phil looked down at the child next to him when they exited their crumbling stairway and wondered if the piglins would even spare a glance in the child’s direction if he were to ever end up in trouble.

…They wouldn’t would they?

Blood eyes lazily stared back at him before looking across the crowd of piglins with an expression of cold indifference before, once again, grabbing a handful of Phil’s haori.

Warmth filled his chest and Phil couldn’t help but smile down upon the child. “Thanks for the help buddy.” His hand instinctively reached over and softly rubbed the smooth surface of the smaller helmet.

Techno tensed up immensely at the unexpected head pat, eyes widened at the other, and the once relaxed hand that grasped at the black cloth twiched and released upon the action. Phil yanked his hand back as if it gave his scarred skin a third degree burn and took a few steps back away from the child. The little piglin flinched back at the fast movement and blue eyes watched as a flicker of fear flash through blood ones.

“Fuck, sorry Techno, I didn’t mean to!” Phil stiffly straightened his arms at his side and kept them frozen there because apparently if he doesn’t then something like this could happen again. He could physically feel the elytra on his back shrink within themself, trying to appear as small and insignificant as possible all while having the feathers being ruffled up from mistake.

The little piglin stood still in the same spot of the accidental action of affection, watching the other’s figure with a cautious eye. Phil couldn’t tell what was going on inside that mind of his at all, all the child had to present is the expressionless face he had dawned on and the unreadable depths of his eyes.

It was a standoff of some sorts; both sides waiting for the other to make the first move. Phil stood where he was awkwardly, not knowing exactly what the child wanted due to the lack of body language, while the other continued to stay still, watching him as if he was impending something horrible.

Techno was the first to move. He guardly moved carefully and shyly towards the winged man like a sneaky predator all while scanning him over with red eyes of an experienced detective. Phil could feel somes of the many sins of his past crawling up his back as his form was abruptly pushed into the focus of a pair of blood, red, spotlights. He made sure to stay still while he did so in order to not accidentally set off any alarms, any more than he already did that is.

The child stood in front of him and stared up at the nervous man in question.

And then four hoof fingers slipped in between scarred ones.

Phil could feel the thin furs that matted Techno’s palms as they fit perfectly inside his palm. His own fingers hesitated for a moment before lightly encasing the smaller hand within his own, careful to not harm it in any sort of way. He could feel some of possibly many deep, unseen scars that decorated the young hand and the player wanted to sooth them all until every single one of them magically vanished. Hooves poked at his skin, but Phil didn’t mind, they were smooth like a freshly oiled doorknob, yet scratched as a show of the years of fighting. The sword wielding child looked up at him shyly and a coo full of contentment and endearment slipped through at the action, all of the wariness from before flew out of the child’s body, sneaking out from between the cracks of the golden armor, and disappearing into the ashy air.

His heart had jumped into his throat and he couldn’t speak. He finally knows where he stood in that intelligent mind of the other.

“Alright Techno...” He barely croaked out through an avalanche of emotions, “...Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (4792 words)
> 
> I notice how in every additional chapter, there’s an additional 1k words more which I guess is consistent but dude the first chapter is 1448 words and now look at where we are.
> 
> BTW THIS FANFIC HAS REACHED 10K HIT WTF THE SUPPORT MY GOD, I LOVE ALL OF YALL! The amount of attention this fic has gathered is so mind boggling to me because idk, i just never expected it.. I hope I can continue to live up to the expectations and make y’all proud with each chapter :D


	5. New Learnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTES:  
> -Players can respawn  
> -Fights to the death is a regular occurrence  
> -Anthropomorphic Players do exist  
> -Mobs can’t respawn

_The entity was watching over the arena when a spark of illuminating purple flickered in the sticky brown sand. It gave out a swirl before disappearing into the thin air, replaced immediately with many more violet particles that followed suit. It watched as the particles congregated into a frame like shape, momentarily blinding its surroundings in an amethyst light. The light dimmed into a glow as obsidian formed into place, pushing the already existing sand in the arena to the side in favor of the intimidating portal._

_A man, dawning a black cloak which gave off fumes of pig blood, stumbled out of the portal. His combat shoes hit the sand with a trip and he fumbled to pull himself together as the tiny, yellow, rocks stained brown entered inside his leg wound which was crudely wrapped in a rushed bandage._

_As a curse was uttered at the unwanted sand, the entity couldn’t help but notice the giant hoglin skull perched roughly upon the man’s face._

_Ah. One of its worshippers. This should be interesting._

* * *

The light rain tapped an irregular music sequence on his roof while the record holder peeled a small potato, It was a slow and rainy day, one where people would just stay inside and watch a movie whilst munching on popcorn. The television noises coming from his living room only supported his thoughts as the sounds merged with the pitter patter of the weather into the perfect, lazy, Sunday. The peace the rains brings has never failed to put the blond man at ease, only the ones without thunder, the ones with does the complete opposite.

Scarred hands chopped the vegetables in half before carefully dumping the cutting board full of potatoes into the salty, boiling, waters. Just as he covered the pot with a lid and set the timer for ten minutes, a loud thump and a grunt came out of the living room and interrupt the rain.

Phil rushed into the room as soon as the sound processed in his brain, he looked into the living room just in time to witness Techno getting back up from the floor. Blood eyes whipped over to the sound of the elder’s quick footsteps with tense shoulders and with hoof fingers grasping at his sword handle; the winged man couldn’t help but feel a surge of affection when the child’s eyesight landed upon him and all of the stress immediately leaves his little body. Even though the moment and the meaning behind the expanded pupils and quiet coo was extremely heartwarming, Phil couldn’t help but wish that the child would feel safe enough in his new environment that he wouldn’t be on guard everytime a door creaked or a wolf howled. Maybe one day that wish would be fulfilled, but not today.

Techno’s short coo drifts off and becomes lost to the sounds of the rain. The soft glance was temporary as well, it soon hardened and narrowed when the child turned his attention back to the buff blitz player on the television screen, an annoyed huff escaped his tusks. 

“I got an advantage out there, those bastards are only relyin’ on brute force while I have been trainin’ for this my whole life!” The man hit his chest with a thump and throned a cocky smile towards the camera. “Let me show ya again, slower this time so those losers out there can watch this and witness what exactly knocked their lights out’!

The man performed a tornado kick into the air a few more times, gloating while he did so. Phil watched the screen, completely unimpressed at the move; maybe back then it was more breathtaking. Techno eyes were intensely glue onto the moving pixels, scanning the man’s movements.

Techno was an intimidatingly fast learner; Phil learned of that fact within the first few days of living with the little piglin.

In about a month and a half, the child had already learned the basics of English and could understand almost everything Phil says on a daily basis. The little guy still has trouble forming full sentences however, but the elder suspected that, sooner or later, Techno would conquer that communication barrier as well. For now though, Phil will just smile and refrain from awwing too much at the child’s broken English and the strange piglin accent that follows with. 

Phil hadn’t been expecting him to learn at such a pace considering that all the little piglin knew of, what seemed to be just a little while ago, was the grunts and squeals of his native language. He guesses all that television has helped the child; Phil had allowed the sword wielding child to play around with somes of his lesser advanced technology around the house and what he found was that the child was completely infatuated with the moving pixels upon the screen. He was at first cautious and scared of what looked to him as a mysterious, mythical, object from beyond, but one quick show of how the modern technology works was all it took for Techno to become addicted.

What was hilarious to the blond man was that Techno only watched two things; old reruns of brutal Blitz death fights and anime. Two things that in no way, shape, or form, was similar to the other. One day, he could hear the blood curdling screams of the damned echoing throughout his living room and the next he would hear a cheerful Japanese song followed closely by the sounds of badly dubbed English voice overs.

On the concerns of the first and frankly disturbing focus of the child, the winged man, at first, tried to stop the little piglin from watching the gruesome death, brawls on the uncensored reruns, but somehow the child always managed to get past his security and watch the bloodbath anyways. If Phil places the remote on top of the fridge, Techno would climb up the counters and grab it; if Phil deletes the show off of his list, Techno would add it right back; if Phil put a parental lock on the show, Techno would wait until he was exhausted and unaware of watchful, red, eyes before asking him to unlock an random movie and memorizing the code. 

After a while, Phil just released an exasperated sigh and allowed Techno to watch the brawls. From what he saw, about eighty percent of each video was about the preparation and not the death brawls themselves. Phil thinks that’s the case due to the fact that the fights, themselves, do not last for very long considering the contestants are just thrown into the battlefield with no shield, all they could really do is to shove an golden apple down their throats, kill, and avoid being killed. Either way, the interviews are where the child learned a good amount of English from; focused, floppy, ears would tune into the words while each contestant talked about and showed off their fighting techniques. So now, on top of phrases such as ‘Can I use the bathroom?’ and ‘I am hungry.’, he now knows how to say ‘I am going to kill everybody here.’ and ‘I will murder you.’

It is funny because Techno would often just blurt out one of those brand new phrases at the most random of times.

It is adorable because of how choppy it sounded and how proud of himself Techno looked whenever he said the full phrase, not knowing the full meaning behind the words or when was the proper time and place for such a statement. 

It is worrying because Phil would never know the exact day, time, or place, when Techno could possibly tell that to the wrong person.

It turned out English wasn’t the only thing Techno picked out from that gruesome show. 

Phil had taken the little piglin out to the shores, of where he first met the kid, with the intentions to teach him how to fish. When they arrived at their location, Phil pulled two enchanted fishing rods out and blood eyes sparkled with glee at the shimmering rods, Techno’s little form was practically bursting with excitement. The elder was taken back at the time because it is rare for the child to be so full of energy, and at such a relaxing, time consuming activity no less. Blue eyes blinked in surprise at how the hoofed hand dropped a shiny, blue, blade into the sand as if it was nothing; Techno never let’s his weapon out of his hand when they are outside, he usually on high alert at any dark shadows in the woods and at any body of water that is too deep to see fully through. With an empty hand holding itself out towards the seeming harmless tool, the kid was asking for permission. 

“Plese! I want.”

Techno’s piglin accent made everything he said sound a lot more gruff and angry than he really was, which was both hilarious and adorable, how can Phil not give him the fishing rod. 

How surprised he was when Techno’s hook ended up caught in the back of his clothes instead of the vast waters. His body was flung a short ways backwards with a yelp and with a quick slide of hands from a fishing rod to a shield, expecting the unexpected. It turned out it was no bloodthirsty monster that enacted the force, but Techno with his proud, excited, eyes and his joyful, tusky, laugh. 

It was the first time Phil had heard him laugh. It was a mixture between the squeal of a happy piglin and the power hungry laugh of the Blitz players; the one when they are soaked in blood, standing alone in an arena swimming with sinful deeds. It sent an array of emotions through Phil, many varied wildly, but they were all over taken with joy as the piglin in front of him continued to laugh and pull him around the beach with the hook, no doubt, tearing a hole into his clothes. There wasn’t much strength behind the pulls considering that Techno is about eight years old, but Phil still deliberately flung himself back whenever that familiar pull hooked at his clothes. After a while of pulling around, a different motion took its place; the hook slammed against his helmet at lightning speed, making blue eyes disoriented and his brain to momentarily stop at the erupt interruption. As Phil’s eyes try to adjust to the world around them, the hook grabbed at his clothes and pulled, prompting the winged man to stumble forward into the sand in front of the hooves of a cheeky, sword wielding, child.

Phil remembered staring up into intelligent blood eyes with wonder before a laugh bubbled out of his chest. 

They didn’t catch a lot of fish that day. Techno actually tried using his fishing hook for what the tool was intended to do before he eventually became bored of the repetitive motions and opted to, once again, swing the blond man around like a puppet. Techno and Phil’s laughter had echoed up and down the shores that day.

It was only when Phil was walking home with a bucket of two salmons in one hand and a hoofed hand in another when he realized that the laugh wasn’t the only thing the kid learned from those reruns. 

Techno continued to fling the fishing rod around while they hiked the path back home. His free hand was occupied by the rod and, for the first time ever, his sword was in his sheath. Techno, at first, struggled to pull at the broken sticks on the ground with one hand, but like everything he did, he learned how at an extraordinarily fast pace. With a skill he only have ever witnessed in Blitz players, he pulled the objects around him towards them like the fishing rod was an extension of his arm. 

Phil knows for a fact that if Techno’s other hand wasn’t softly encaged within his, it would clutch a diamond sword that would obliterate the objects that Techno flung towards them.

Ever since that day, Techno would play with the fishing rod just as much as he would with his sword, hooking in giant leaves hovering over waterfalls, tree branches that were seven feet above the ground, and once even a wild chicken. That last one was less than tranquil, it was a bloody sight; the hook went right into the back of the chicken’s neck and the poor thing was half dead by the time Techno pulled the suffering creature over to Phil. The elder recalled the lack of empathy presented in the child’s crimson eyes as he proudly showed off his catch, not caring about the streams of blood, that stained the wild chicken’s peach feathers, leaking down and spreading around his hands or the quiet squawks of pain the creature managed to get out before choking on it’s own red fluids. 

Blood eyes watched with indifference as Phil quietly put the wild animal out of its misery.

A less than deadly hobby Techno had taken interest in is, surprisingly, farming. Phil could recall the curious stares as they bore a hole into the back of his hands while he worked at the soil, pulling up the fully grown carrots and potatoes. At first the elder just thought that the other was hungry and offered the little guy a golden carrot, it was one of many golden carrots that were in his inventory, he had begun keeping them on his person at all times ever since Techno had pleasantly intruded into his life. 

Techno looked past the golden treat in favor of the green leaves sticking out of rich soils. “Wha are you do?”

Phil raised a curious eyebrow at the child before a soft smile danced across his face. “It’s called farming, Techno.”

The other then proceeded to slowly pronounce the new word a few times before the winged man gave him a nod when he managed to say it correctly. There is no doubt in the record holder’s mind that the kids had already stored the word and its meanings in that intelligent head of his. 

A smile danced across the player’s face. “Do you wanna learn how to farm mate?”

And that little question skyrocketed the little piglin’s brand new hobby, not his favorite though, that spotlight still shines over fighting, but it was still one that Techno enjoyed immensely. He mostly farms potatoes to Phil’s surprise; the blond man would have guessed that carrots would be the kid’s main focus considering that it is a primary ingredient in making golden carrots, but once again, Techno had knocked down his expectations with a slam. When the child has finished stabbing at the homemade, hayfilled, dummy for what he deemed was an appropriate amount of time, he would put his dirtied blade in its sheath and go to work at the soils; watering the sprouting greens and pulling up intrusive weeds with a hop in his steps. The winged man would usually just watch over the piglin and whistle a merry tune to the other’s musical footsteps. 

That was also the day that Phil learned that Techno vastly preferred potatoes over the golden carrots that the adult had been serving to him. The man had watched the child happily chomp down on his mashed potato in curiosity; questions quietly flooding his mind as a small sequel of happiness penetrated the air when Techno found out that Phil had thrown in bits of golden carrots in his lunch. The light bounced off their shiny coats seemed even brighter now that it was surrounded by pale mashed potatoes. The differences in value contracts wildly with each other, but the little piglin treated them all the same, quickly chowing them both down. The elder smiled at the happy display before lifting up a spoon of his own mashed potatoes to his mouth. His plate lacked the teeth shattering, metallic, vegetable of course.

His mind wandered to the somes of the many books that Phil had read about the Nether, specifically the parts about the piglin, and wondering what is truly real and what is just false speculation. Perhaps people thought that the piglin’s favorite food was the golden carrot because they mistaken the greed in their gold blinded eyes for hunger. It seems like the expensive carrots are just the piglin equivalent of candy, it’s tasty, but ultimately just something to chew on after an actual meal.

A journal containing all information that Phil has gather so far lay at his bedside table. He would write in it everyday, scribbling in notes about the little things that the man learned about the child that day.

A page in the journal was all about how Techno would interact with Pog and Champ. Phil was concerned about his furry companions due to the fact that they despised the little piglin when they first met. The man had raised an eyebrow at their wariness when the child had first moved in, they would constantly watch Techno with constricted pupils and raised backs as if they were expecting the child to hurt them, hissing whenever he came near and only relaxing when he was out of the room. Something in Phil’s heart broke at the sight; Pog and Champs were his first roommates so they held a special place in the winged man’s life, observing them always on high alert around the new member to their strange family was devastating. Thankfully, after a few weeks of swishing tails and bared fangs, the cats began to calm down around the kid after seeing the child would normally just leave them alone, nevermind the few fruitless efforts Techno had trying to pet them.

The page right next to that one was dedicated to how Techno would communicate with wild pigs that roamed the land around his base; He would flap his adorable ears at his pink predecessor and try to communicate with it in his native piglin language. Like the cats though, the wild pigs would also try to stay away from the little guy. He would give up after a few moments of chasing the creatures around and after hearing a few nonsensical oinking from the farm animals, but he would do the same thing again if his hawk eyes caught onto another pig. 

A sticky note was stuck between those two pages; it reads, ‘Why? Animals are scared of Techno. B/c he is a hostile mob?? Find out why.’

Another page was all about Techno’s tendencies to hoard; it makes sense in a way, a normal pigin would hoard the things around them so they could trade for shiny valuables. Even though Techno has shown himself to be far from a normal piglin, the blood runs deep and blood eyes couldn’t help but to shimmer at the sight of anything shiny. The room right across from Phil’s, a guest room turned child’s bedroom, now contains a chest full of random shiny objects the child had picked up during his stay. A couple of gold bars that Phil has forgotten, a few bottles of potions that Phil made sure to check over for the sake of Techno’s safety, a half filled satchel of emeralds, and many more. On top of all of the shimmering objects though, sits a box containing a tall, gleaming, purple, feather that is kept in pristine condition. On the rare occasions that Techno would pull it out, usually when he’s frustrated, he would just sit there, staring and playing with the thin, colorful, vane until all of the anger oozed out of him. Phil would feel warmth fill his heart whenever he catches a glimpse of that rare scene.

There’s more entries in that journal that detail more of the child’s strange antics and adventures, but the aforementioned three are the only ones on the top of his head at the moment. 

A frustrated grunt escaped the child in front of him, snapping the blond out of his thoughts and back into reality. Phil quickly walked over to check on the kid who was on his hands and knees, having just failed once again at the spinning kick. Pog and Champ looked up from their perch, looking in the direction of the disruptive noise.

“Are you okay Techno?” Phil carefully lifted the little piglin back up to his feet. “Do you want a mat or something to cushion your fall?” 

The sword wielding child lightly pushed his hands away with a face full of quiet determination. Phil interpreted that as a no on his offer. Stubborn little hellchild.

Techno took a few steps back away from the blond before staring at the television screen with his snout scrunched up in annoyance and with his hands balled up into a fist. The kid then looked back at Phil with determination in his eyes, already ready to try again. The winged man blinked at surprise as two hooves cutted through the air, the kick, at max height, reached a little bit over the winged man’s waist before the leg came crashing down, knocking over a bottle of water on the couch table. Phil managed to catch the falling, pink, form before the reckless child could hit his head on the floor and possibly knock himself out during his endeavors. It seems like this time the other was a lot more prepared for the inevitable fall, outstretched, pink, arms were prepared to catch himself before anything could happen. 

“Okay, that’s it, I’m gonna go get you a mat.” 

The fire of determination flickered off for a bit as he looked up at worried eyes with a questioning head tilt. “...A wha?”

Phil felt himself blank for a moment. An embarrassed hand went up and covered half his face, he chuckled to himself at the realization that perhaps the child in front of him, that is most likely going to have bruises on his knees in the morning, didn't want a mat because he didn’t understand what it was.

“Stay here mate, wait for me, I’m gonna go get you a mat.” Phil walked off in the direction of his closet, glancing behind him for a second to see if the child understood. Thankfully Techno understood the meaning behind ‘stay’ and ‘wait’, he stood there looking towards Phil with a bored expression dawned on his face. The winged man released a quiet laugh at the face as he pulled out a thick blanket out of the closet. It was large, wooly, and warm, but most importantly, it could reduce the number of bruises the child could get. 

Phil scampered back with a grin on his face, he lightly nudged the little piglin to the side and the child complied with a curious eye. Purple feathers fluttered in the air as the man straightened the blanket out, patting the warm wool down flat against the floor. He then grabbed the remote before rewinding the video back to when the Blitz player demonstrated his mediocre moves. Techno watched the screen in fascination, ears raised at the backwards English that emitted from the electronic.

He stopped rewinding when that familiar, smug, face popped up once again. “-osers out there can watch this and witness what exactly knocked their lights out’! 

Wonderfilled blood eyes turned into concentrated, observant, ones like a flick of a switch, promoting a quiet laugh from the elder as he walked into the kitchen in search of a rag to clean up the water that the other had spilled during the other’s last efforts.

He returned just in time to witness a wobbly tornado kick; the child managed to achieve his goal of performing the kick, if only he didn’t mess up on the landing. The child had managed to land on his hooves while clumsily flapping his arms around in hopes of regaining balance. It was messy and graceless, but it was a tornado kick nonetheless. 

A smile exploded throughout the blond’s face at the achievement. “Good job mate!” Techno’s looked up from his feet with alerted eyes at the sudden noise, his body posture relaxed after seeing the source of the proud applauses and his face brightened up immensely, a quiet squeal erupted from the child. He bathed in the praises of the claps for a few seconds before releasing a huff into the air and preparing to do the kick again; he’s trying to perfect the move.

Suddenly, the rerun stopped just as the gates to the battle field began to open and an ad rudely pushed the program to the side in favor of pictures of backpacks and lunch bags. An annoying voice blasted throughout the room, “School is just around the corner kids, parents, come on down to the market or call 555 0925 to get quality handmade backpacks and lunch bags for your little Sunshines! Again, come down to the market or call 55-“ Phil pressed the skip button and the rerun continued. The bloodthirsty Blitz players let out a barbaric war cry as they charged forward at one another.

Techno did the kick again, this time a lot less uneasy and more confident, sharp hooves landed on the floor, most likely piercing through the thick wool. An excited glimmer flashed through blood irises, he knows he’s close to getting it down.

Phil kneed down in order to clean up the mess the kid made with his rag, he wiped the whole table down while he did so, deciding to swipe at the gathered dust while he was wiping. As screams echoed through the living room, scarred hands picked up a stack of soaked papers in order to wipe the surface underneath. After the table was freshly wiped down of any puddles, sapphire irises scanned over the clump of papers in case there was anything important in there before he dumped it into the trash can. The easy mathematics and English sentences sprawled across the blank canvas in a messy show of handwriting as well as green check marks and red crosses; the check marks abundantly outnumber the crosses.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such an absurd idea.

“Hey Techno..”

Two hooves cut through the air like knives, it was both fast and dangerous and Phil could feel a small breeze that blew from the spin. Hooves landed upon a wooly surface with a thump and with a powerful look in crimson eyes. He pumped his fist into the skies, a mixture between a victorious sequel and light laughter momentarily filled the air.

“How do you feel about school?”

A scream of agony penetrated the air and the boastful man on the screen kicked down an equally muscular player with the same move that he had demonstrated. His feet flew up and knocked down his opponent and the axe in the man’s hands chopped through the other’s chest; blood sprayed everywhere, covering the ground in a new color; He was the last one standing. A golden crown, embedded with various gems was placed upon the blood drenched man’s head. A crazed expression permanently stamped the killer’s face as he laughed and laughed into the empty skies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (4532 words)
> 
> Okay I am actually kinda terrified of the growth of this fanfiction holy shit that’s alotta people reading this, seriously thank you all so much for the support!! 💕
> 
> Anyways this is just something cute for the time being, nothing toooo plot driven.. UNLESS? maybe it will become plot driven in the future for some reason, I am literally just writing as I go with a foggy vision of what I want the plot to be. 
> 
> Shoutout to Whee in the comment section of chapter three for reminding me of the fishing rod! :D

**Author's Note:**

> -I try to upload once a month  
> -Comments, kudos, and criticisms are welcomed  
> -Idk how this story is going go

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Into the Fire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27419446) by [curseworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/curseworm/pseuds/curseworm)




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